Soul Saviour
by bluieredhead
Summary: Since the shark attack, Bryon had only ever said one thing to Bethany; "Please don't die on me." And she didn't .Overwhelmed by her strength, Bryon had never managed to find the right words to say to his sister's best friend. Now he will have to try.
1. Chapter 1

_I adored Bethany's story. She is such an inspirational lady, to have survived and not given up on following her dreams after everything she went through. I became aware of this incredible athlete, whilst watching the 2011 movie Soul Surfer. During the movie, I fell in love with the idea of Bryon and Bethany, (portrayed by Jeremy Sumpter and AnnaSophia Robb) and their connection through the tragic events that occurred. This is in no way based on facts, and does not mean to take away from the truth of Bethany's story, this is just me playing with the fictional characters that were constructed in the movie. This is what I want to happen! I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave me a message with your thoughts! _

-Chapter 1-

His heart was pounding, so much so, people could actually sing along to the beat it was pumping. But he couldn't focus on how much he was hurting, how much he wanted to just collapse. He just couldn't, as he helped slide Bethany Hamilton into the back of his dad's truck. How could he even think of being in pain himself, when she had just lost her entire arm? Gone. But it did hurt. Something inside of him, ached. It was Dread: and it was growing. It started at the pit of his stomach, creeping up until all he could feel was the excruciating hysteria: Bethany was dying.

"Hold onto her!" His dad bellowed as he skidded around the edge of the car and dove into the front seat. Instantly, he followed orders and wedging himself between the edge of the tray, and Bethany's board. His legs holding himself firmly into position, he was able to wrap his arms around her waist, and hold onto her tightly.

The truck literally jumped into gear, causing Bethany to slide a little under his grip. But he held on, as his dad sped away from the ocean, and closer to civilisation. Next to him, in the back of the tray, was his sister Alana, who had climbed into the truck with them. As he looked over to Alana, desperate to pull his eyes away from the fading Bethany, he noticed that his sister couldn't look at her too.

The car lurched over the edge of the cemented road, and the jerk pulled his eyes back to Bethany. She was so pale, so weak. There was blood everywhere, and it didn't look to be stopping soon. He was so worried that she hadn't said anything in a while.

She was slipping.

He was trying to hold onto her, to keep her there with him. But he couldn't stop her slipping away from him. He couldn't save her.

"Please don't die... Don't die... on me,"

With a final snap, the wind coming through his window tugged just a little too hard to his curtains, and everything fell crashing to the floor. The sound dragged him out of his sleep, and he choked as he pulled himself up.

Bryon Blanchard found himself awake, completely cocooned in blankets, perched on the edge of his couch. Gasping, he struggled for a few moments, before breaking through his sheets and pulling himself upright. He tried to focus on his breathing, as it scratched against his throat, and the pounding of the wind that had escalated as the night progressed. Even though he tried, his mind instantly shifted back towards the dream he was having before he awoke. It was undoubtedly a dream. Some would even call it a nightmare. But Byron called it a memory.

He gave himself a shake, as though the physical act could expel the thoughts from his mind, and then climbed off the couch, stepping further away from his sleep. His bed sat alone on the other side of the room, untouched in weeks. Bryon had given up trying to sleep on it each night, now having taken to sleeping wherever he eventually dropped. He pulled himself over to the window. Slamming it down, he successfully shut out the power of the wind from the sea. Leaving the broken railing and curtains scattered on the floor, he shuffled back over to his couch.

He could feel the sweat as though it was clumping against his skin. The idea of pulling the blankets back over him made him instantly feel claustrophobic. So he threw them onto the ground, with his shirt following shortly after. With the tattered makeshift bed underneath him, he stared up at the ceiling. Everything in his room looked brighter in the moonlight that was seeping through his now uncovered window. His bathroom sent in more rays of light, so that even when he shut his eyes, he could see the brightness. But Bryon didn't bother getting up to turn off his light; he knew that casting his room in darkness would not help.

Everything was so much harder during the night. In the daytime, there were things to do, people to talk to, work to be done. In the night, when the world had fallen asleep all around him, Bryon was left to only his thoughts. And when his mind finally shut down, those thoughts, the ones he so desperately avoided, are remembered through his dreams.

As per usual, it didn't matter how much he tried. Falling asleep was nearly impossible for him. No matter how tired he was, Bryon will only ever get a couple of hours of sleep an evening. And once he had woken up, sleep doesn't visit a second time.

Bryon knew he should probably talk to someone about it; it definitely isn't normal. But then his family would wonder why he was having these problems. And they would work out its connection with Bethany. And then things would become seriously complicated. So instead, Bryon would spend every night, trying his hardest to overcome it all by himself, and every morning, as soon as the sky started to change its tone, he would hit the road, sometimes running for hours, the adrenaline giving him the burst to get through the day. And on barely any sleep, it was always a really long day.

This day was no different. It was still very windy as the sun started to rise. When Bryon eventually returned from running, he headed into the kitchen for some breakfast. It was oddly quiet for that time in the morning, with none of his family insight. As his toast was cooking, his sister slid into the room.

"Where the HECK is DAD!"  
>"I Donno?" Alana growled at her brothers lack of information, before scrambling out of the room. He threw on some butter, before following her. "Why do you need dad?"<br>"He promised to give me a lift to the airport. I have a comp in Honolulu this arvo! I need to catch my flight!"  
>"Can I help?" he mumbled as he took a bite of his breakfast and she hurried around her room gathering clothes to pack. "I can drive you if you want?"<br>"Not necessary, Bryon! I'm here!" Their father's voice echoed through the house.  
>"Finally!" Alana declared as she grabbed her still open, only partially packed bag, and went to find her dad.<p>

Their dad was running through the house too, trying to find his keys, whilst he slipped over because he was still wet from swimming in the sea. Alana was hysterical as she tried to find everything she owned. By the time their mother found them, and realised how out of control her family were, she had little choice but to join in the frenzy, and try to help get them a little more organised.

Bryon kept out of their way, and cooked himself another piece of toast. As Alana grabbed the last of the stuff she needed, and the keys were finally located, he followed them outside. When he helped carry her bags to the car, he called out to his family. "Is it possible you should have all woken up a little earlier?"  
>"Some of us are not able to wake up as early as you, Bryon!" Alana complained.<br>"It's called self control Alana!" He retorted quickly, even though in his case it was more insomnia that self control.

"Have you got everything, hun?" Their mother was always the one to ask such a question. "Bathers? Money? And make sure you have your phone to call us when you arrive, okay? And We want to know how the competition goes!"

"Phone!" Alana gasped, as she froze. She looked panicked as she searched her pockets. "I haven't seen it at all this morning. Have you guys seen it?" When they all shook their heads, she really started to freak out.  
>"Relax. I am sure it is in your bag!"Bryon assured her. "Jump in the car. I will give it a call, and you will be able to hear it ringing. It's not on silent, is it?"<br>"No, I left it on loud." Alana climbed into the car as he dialled his sister's number. His dad got into the driver's seat as well, and together they listened for the sound of her phone.  
>"It's ringing," Bryon told them, but they couldn't hear anything from inside her bags. "You must have left it somewhere. Where did you have it last?" he asked her as he kept listening to the phone ring.<br>"I don't know... Um... Oh, I could have left it with-"

"Good morning, this is Bethany!"

Bryon froze. Literally like a statue. He didn't know what to say. His mind jumped to the dream he had awoken from, only a few hours prior, and then even further back to the moment in the water, as he frantically paddled over to the source of the blood, and watched it pouring out from where her arm should have been.  
>"Is anybody there?" Bethany's voice was light. Not weak like it had been when he had last heard it. The attack was months and months ago, but it didn't feel like that to him.<p>

"Bryon?" Alana's voice broke through, and he looked around to see both his parents, and his sister staring at him. Bryon realised how terribly he was hiding how broken he was. With no idea what to say to Bethany, he just handed his phone over to his sister.  
>"It's for you."<br>"Alana speaking. Oh, Bethany! You have my phone? I must have left it there last night. Dad and I will drop by and pick it up now, if you are home?"  
>"You really don't have time hun!" their mother interjected, "You will miss your flight!"<br>"But I need to take a phone, mum."  
>"Take your dad's,"<br>"That's fine," Their father agreed from the driver's seat, "Bryon can drop via Bethany's place and pick it up today. He can send it in the mail."  
>"Did you hear the plan Bethany? Is that okay with you? Fantastic! I will speak to you soon, thanks so much!"<p>

Bryon was still rather motionless, as his sister handed him back his phone, and the engine of the truck was cranked over.  
>"Is it okay if you pick that up for me? I really appreciate it, bro."<br>"Yeah... No problem at all Alana. Have a good trip."

As his sister disappeared down the drive, and his mother wondered off to get ready for work, he was left with his thoughts once more.

He hasn't spoken to Bethany since the day she lost her arm. But today, that was going to have to change.  
>And he really didn't know if he was ready for that.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

-Chapter 2-

Despite having been asked to pick up the phone straight away, Bryon had somehow found enough jobs to procrastinate going to her place until a couple of hours later. When he had originally been asked, he was a little concerned about seeing Bethany again. By the time he actually was driving up her driveway, Bryon had reached a point of undoubtable hysteria. His heart was beating so fast, it was causing him to spin out, his breathing sounded like he needed to be hooked up to a respirator, and he had reached a point of shaking so badly, he was barely able to stay on the road. It had actually gotten so bad, he had to pull over, or more than one occasion. He was trying to calm himself down long enough to pull himself together, even just a little bit.

His car more of reluctantly rolled up to her house, rather than drive: that was definitely his fault. As he cranked in his slightly rusted out handbrake, he just sat.

In front of him stretched out Bethany's house, woven throughout a pocket of palm trees. The windows and doors were wide open, allowing an uninterrupted flow from the sea through their house, as the Hamiltons' always do. They were practically born and bred in the sea, and it visibly seeped into their everyday lives. It has been a while since Bryon had visited their home; he could tell this by the length the trees had grown around him. Despite the time, he still recognised the place, thanks to all the photographs and video footage that plagued the news after that shark attack. In his mind's eye, he could picture the news vans and interviewers pilling up, parking their cars where his truck was now, eager to find out how Bethany was coping. He could picture her peaking out from the windows by the front door, imagining how she would have struggled to adapt, while they crowded around the outside of her place, trying to force their noisy cameras inside her life.

As much as the media disgusted him, and it honestly made him sick to the stomach thinking of all that extra strain they must have put onto Bethany and her family, it caused him even more pain knowing that he hadn't even been able to find the strength to try and help her. And he calls her a friend.

As he watched, still from the driver's seat of his old truck, the front doors were pushed a little wider, and Bethany's eldest brother Noah strolled out. Searching his bag for something, Noah was halfway to his car, before he recognised Bryon sitting there.

"Mate! It's been a while! I have got to get going, but Dude, just come on in! The girls are somewhere inside." Bryon had zero chance to respond, and therefore no opportunity to deny the offer, for Noah had already thrown his stuff in the back of his own preowned, much loved car, and was climbing into the seat. After such an official invitation, Bryon had little choice but to climb out of his truck and shuffle up to the front door.

Since the door was already open, he kind of hesitated at the door, unsure if knocking was still appropriate. He decided to knock, because, lets be honest here, he was just procrastinating out of fear. Fear of meeting the girl whose own misfortunes have seemed to have destroyed every wall within his mind, had shredded him to pieces, had changed everything.

"Just come in!" His heart actually stopped a beat. The very second time today, and all for the same girl.

She was sitting on the couch, her legs draping over the armrest, her back propped up by some pillows, as she read a book on the couch. He could see the cover, and noticed the familiar look of a crashing wave on it, giving it the highest possibility that it was about surfing, in one way or another. She smiled when she saw him standing there, seemingly oblivious to his awkwardness.

"Hey, Bryon! I haven't seen you in like… Forever."  
>"Yeah, it has been a while."<br>He wanted to ask her how she was. It was on the very tip of his tongue. But she gap where her arm use to be was almost like a visual barrier. Obviously, life hadn't exactly been easy for her.  
>"I'm great Bryon. That's so kind of you to ask. Thanks!" She folded the edge of the page, before dropping the book to the floor, and getting up.<br>"I'm sorry! I just-" Bryon flipped, devastated that he was offending her, when he was trying to hard to do the right thing.  
>"It's cool. I am just teasing!" His eyes snapped up to her face, just in time for possibly the cutest smile he had ever seen. It was the perfect blend of mischief and humour. But Bryon didn't see it long as she turned away to walk through her place. "The phone's in my room," She explained as she disappeared from sight.<p>

"So, how's life been for you?" She called out to him from the depths of the house. He felt a little rude to call his response back out, so he followed the direction she went in, until he had found her bedroom. Hovering outside her doorway, he watched her climb over to her bed and unplug his sister's phone, that Bethany must have decided to charge for her.  
>"I'm good," he finally replied, "You know, haven't been up to too much." She smiled back at him and she brought the phone over.<p>

Bethany held out his sister's phone, and Bryon reached up to let her drop it in his hand. But she hesitated, both their hands outreached, him waiting patiently for her. To him, it looked as though she got distracted by a thought, and simply forgot to give it to him.  
>"You look… Tired…" It was almost a whisper. Like she didn't know how to ask him, but she knew she had to, nonetheless. "Are you okay, Bryon?"<p>

It wasn't that nobody ever asked him. At his point, his tiredness was something that he could hardly hide from people. But it was different when she asked him: when Bethany asked him. Because it was Bethany who was concerned about him, and Bethany had seemed to become everything.

He shrugged, not even trying to think of words to describe to her that it was her own pain that was actually what was destroying him. He knew there was no way he could ever actually voice what was going on inside his head. It wasn't logical, it made zero sense to him, so he had no hope that anyone else would be able to understand what was going on, let alone her.

And suddenly, the look on her face as she lay in the water, blood pooling around her, was not the look that hurted him the most. He knew that it would no longer be the face that would keep him up at night, not allow him to sleep. The new face that would be plaster permanently onto the back of his mind's eye would look like the way she was looking at him now. Like she knew he was unwell. That he was sad. And she felt sorry for him.

He felt weak, like his soul had just given up on the world. He was just pathetic.

When he didn't reply, she eventually remembered the phone in her hand, and dropped it into his own.

"Thanks for this," he muttered, before swivelling around. He could feel her eyes on the back of him, watching him go. He really wanted to turn back around, to apologies for being so rude, to be able to tell her everything in his head, to voice every single thing that so desperately needed to be said; but it was as though his body knew their was no chance that he could find the right words, so it guided him straight to the door.

He was almost through it, when Mrs Hamilton's voice appeared out of nowhere.  
>"Bryon! You're here!"<br>"Yes mam. Just picking up my sister's phone." Mrs Hamilton was standing in kitchen, a knife in one hand, and looking like she was ready to do some damage, possibly to the potato she held in the other hand.  
>"Well, while you're here, I can officially invite your family over for dinner tonight. We were going to have burgers! Do you think they would be interested?"<br>"I'm sure they'd be thrilled. I can pass that on to them if you'd like."  
>"Will you be able to join us to?" Bryon could see Bethany, waiting in the shadows of the hallway, just watching them both. He didn't think he could go through seeing her again. It was all just too hard. He wasn't strong enough.<br>"I would hate to be an inconvenience…"  
>"Then don't be. We will see you all at 6pm tonight."<p>

And with that, Bethany's mother roped Bryon into having to seeing Bethany for a second time in one day.


	3. Chapter 3

_I would just like to say a quick thank you to all my reviews, everything that shows me how much you care. You guys are all what inspires, and motivates me to keep writing! Thank you!_

_And a special thanks to Super8-Lover. I had a terrible day today… Your message was perfect, thank you. I sat down to write because of that message, and my day got better (slightly) from there. I thank you so much for that. This chapter is for you xoxo_

- Chapter three –

Bryon had a few hours to mentally prepare himself to see Bethany for a second time. He took that time to do very productive things… Like sitting in the corner of his room, going over every detail of how Bethany looked, moved, talked, breathed. He analysed everything he had seen to the point that his head was splitting in pain.

As Bryon sat there, he was aware of how useless he was; that very fact was something he pushed to the furthest point of his mind and spent the majority of the time pretending like it wasn't the truth. But Bryon had to think everything through. Seeing her had been huge for him. Actually speaking to her was simply monumental. Of course, speaking to her would be an accurate description of what happened, if the fact that he lacked in saying the right words, stringing sentences together, or even managing to say goodbye, was completely ignored.

He could see that she was okay. In his mind, he had somehow figured that she wasn't ever truly going to be okay. Bryon knew it could easily be some big act, that she could be completely broken inside, just like him. But none the less, she was alive... And knowing that, seeing that, changed everything.

.  
>She had stood there, right in front of him, and asked if he was okay.<p>

Bethany Hamilton had lost her arm in a shark attack! Her entire life had been upended, every dream she wished for, ripped away in the teeth of an animal. And yet, she had stood there and had asked him how he was feeling. It felt surreal, to have that question come from her. And then, he ran away.

Bryon's head sunk, until he had his eyes rested closed against his knees, and his arms enclosed the little space he had formed, blocking out as much light as he could. Because, deep down, he was so ashamed of how he felt, of how he couldn't sleep with nightmares, of how he would reach a point of hysteria where he couldn't even manage to breathe. But more than anything else, he was ashamed of the way she looked at him.

He knew he was weak, that's why he was unable to deal with the attack. Everyone else was shocked, but they accepted what happened and moved on, but he was stuck, unable to break away from the cage he had created for himself. Bethany could see that he was damaged. She had no possible way of knowing that it was her that had pushed him into this spiralling state. When she looked at him, so sad for his pain, every bit of his own self respect vanished. The strongest girl he had ever met, was sad for how weak he was.

It had cemented how he viewed himself. Pathetic.

He could hear his mum's shoes hit the floor as she came closer and closer to his room. His head snapped up, and he searched for the closest item he could use to give him a legitimate excuse to be curled up on the floor. A book was lying under some clothes a little reach away. Pulling it out and making sure he was actually reading it the right way around, a mistake far to many movie actors had been caught out on, before flipping a decent way through the book.

"Well, are you coming?"  
>"I have a choice?" Bryon's mind whirled: maybe he should stay home? Avoid a repeat of earlier today?<br>"Actually… I don't think you did. Mrs Hamilton called saying that she is expecting all of us, in particular you. Do you want to grab your things? Your dad is almost ready, and seriously, you don't want to take longer than your father to get ready. That would be just embarrassing."

She left him to change. He struggled to find some clothes that said sorry-for-running-out-on-you-Bethany. So he looked for clothes that said you-seem-to-be-plaguing-my-thoughts-rather-permanently. That seemed even harder to find. He was forced to settle for I-hope-these-make-me-look-alittle-normal. He wasn't particularly happy at the compromise, but he had run out of time.

The trip there was uneventful, and if felt like mare minuets before Bryon was outside Bethany's place once more. This time, his family was there, and gave him no opportunity to procrastinate by sitting in the car waiting. The Blanchard's knocked on the door, and Mr Hamilton was there in seconds, greeting Bryon's parents with beaming smiles.  
>"Can I get you guys a drink?" He asked, the moment they had all stepped inside.<br>"I'll take a beer," Bryon's dad said as he made his way over to kitchen, and started sneaking bites of the food that had already been prepared for dinner. Bryon's mother was quick to follow her husband, and squat his wayward hand from the food, before helping with the food.  
>"You want anything Bryon?" Mr Hamilton asked.<br>"Nah. I'm great, thanks."

Bryon leant on the back of the couch, watching his mum and dad as they laughed with Bethany's own parents, the men teasing their wives, who retorted with threats of not cooking for them again.  
>"Our parents are so mature, aren't they?" Bethany was suddenly beside him, and he had absolutely no clue how she managed to sneak up on him without him foreseeing it. He pretended as though his heart beating had to do with the surprise, rather than her close proximity.<br>"I am so proud of them." The sarcasm laced through his voice made her laugh.

She lent back on the chair too, so they were standing side by side.  
>"Did you get the chance to send your sister's phone?"<br>"Yeah, I am expecting her to get it by the morning. Sent it by express mail."  
>"That's good. I can't believe she forgot it!"<br>"I know. My sis can be a little like that. Too focused on surfing to remember things like phones."  
>"True." Bryon could see her smiling at this, all too familiar with that kind of situation. He had heard Alana raving about how enthusiastic Bethany was to get back into the water after her attack. She too, could become rather focused on the surf. He use to be, but with everything that had happened, no longer has to worry about that.<p>

"Dinner is ready!" Bethany's mother declared, and there is a rush for everyone to get the first plates.  
>"Grab me some food, will ya?" Bethany asked as she disappeared. She seemed to give him no choice in the getting food for two mouths, so the need to get infront of his parents in the food queue became so much more important. A few shoves, and he was able to pile up two plates full of a little bit of everything. He noticed that Mrs Hamilton kept on piling spoonfuls of food onto his plate, refusing to listen when he had said that he had enough. She seemed to think she knew what was best.<p>

Dinner was to be outside, on the deck. At a little past 7pm, the sun had just set, welcoming the cool night air with its departure. Bryon wondered out, to find Bethany waiting patiently at the table holding a can of coke out for him. He placed her plate down, and took the coke from her, before sitting beside her.  
>"Thanks for this. Did I get everything you liked?" He nodded towards her plate, and she inspected it for a bit.<br>"You did wonderfully! Except… I'm sorry, is that cucumber? Really?" Honestly, he had no idea she didn't like cucumber. Mortified that he had put it on her plate, he hastily picked up his fork, skewered the ones he could see, and slid them onto his own plate.  
>"I would never give you cucumber! How could you suggest such an adversity!"<br>"I don't know." She was teasing him now, pretending like she didn't notice him stealing her food. "I must have imagined it. Sorry to accuse you!" They were both quietly chuckling, as their family took their seats. Bethany's brothers managed to make it just in time to join them, after Tim was picked up from work by Noah. They unfortunately didn't get home quickly enough to get the good food, but they were able to scrounge around and find something to half decent to eat. As they pulled up chairs to join everyone on the deck, Noah watched his little sister closely as she giggled with Bryon. Bryon notice that they had gained someone's attention, and the smile disappeared from his face.

He wasn't particularly interested in encouraging people ask questions about the two of them; things were already so complicated for him.

It took a mare 2 minuets for the conversation to turn to surfing, which really was no surprised, considering how much their families loved to surf. But it was unfortunate for Byron, who was the only one at the table who wasn't currently in the surfing phase. The really unlucky part was that he had yet to tell anyone about it. Nobody, not even his parents, or his sister, knew he had stopped surfing. So when everyone talks about catching waves, Bryon has to pretend like he loves it to.  
>"Bryon, mate, haven't seen you out in the surf for a while!" Noah eventually pointed out the truth. Bethany looked at Bryon, her face showing how she had just realised her brother was correct.<br>"That's so true! Where have you been?" He could see his parents stopping their conversation, to listen to their son.  
>"Oh, you know. I surf down at the cove a bit. Whenever I get the chance." Despite his words, his shrug with uncomittal.<br>"Yeah, he goes down there a couple times a week," his mother piped in from end of the table, "With Peter, the Eve's boy."  
>"Oh yeah. Good kid." Mr Hamilton said, as he remembered Bryon's friend. Despite what Bryon claimed, him and Peter never go surfing. They have a deal. But he could hardly admit that, so he chucked on a hasty,<br>"Yeah, not a bad surfer."  
>"We will have to keep an eye out for the two of you," Bethany told him with a smile, "See if you're telling the truth!"<p>

Bryon knew she was referring to Peter being a good surfer, but to him, it felt like she knew he was lying. Hiding the truth about how damaged he was from everyone, especially her, was hard. But lying to her face was disgusting. Desperate to get off the topic, he thought of the very first conversation he could think of, and turned to Bethany.  
>"Why did your mumma want me here for diner so much?"<br>"You haven't noticed the amount of food on your plate? Yeah, she is trying to stuff you."  
>"Oh…She is fattening me up? She must be planning on eating me." She was taking a sip at that, and coughed a little as she laughed. It was both her brothers this time, whose eye's snapped suspiciously over to their little sister. "Yeah. Definitely!" She agreed. Bryon glanced over at her. Bethany smiled, and shrugged. "She just… worries about you. We all do, you know? You're practically family."<br>"You don't need to worry about me. I'm fine."  
>"So you've been saying. Bryon, if your wanting to people to believe that, maybe you should eat your food, instead of just pushing it all around your plate?"<p>

His eyes sunk down, as he halved wished she wasn't being honest. Ofcourse, she was telling the truth: he had barely eaten anything, just rearranged everything a bit. So he focused on eating, and letting the conversations pass him bye.

Bryon actually felt a little, accomplished almost, by the situation they were in. He was sitting beside Bethany. Bethany Hamilton. Eating dinner, and acting like he was totally normal. Not only that, but everything was going fine!

He just has to make sure he keeps calm, for the rest of the evening. Shouldn't be too hard.


	4. Chapter 4

- Chapter Four –

The rest of dinner was a bit of a blur. Broyn's family were practically merged with Bethany's, so they had absolutely no trouble finding things to talk about. After dinner, the parents moved inside to have coffee and continue their catch up.

Bethany and her brothers were arguing about something all three had seen on tv the night before, as they cleared the table. Bryon, who had drifted over to the edge of the deck, and had his legs swinging over the edge, got the impression that they had all watched different shows, from the way they were carrying on. They left him outside, alone with his thoughts. Which, unlike normal, weren't so brooding. The darkness that wrapped around Bethany's place, seemily sweeping in from the sea in front of him, didn't seem to be as cold tonight as it usually was, possibly due to the sounds of chatter and movement coming from behind him.

"Hey." Bethany slid down to join him on the edge, crossing her legs beneath her.  
>"Hey," Bryon said instantly in reply, before mentally hitting himself for being so unclassy. He knew he should say something, get her talking, but of course now was when his mind felt like shutting down. When he was trying to fall asleep it had no problem running at 20 times its normal speed, but now, when he actually needed to fill the air, it completely failed him. Bryon had no choice, but to sit in silence, and curse his stupid brain.<p>

"Sister, it is your turn to do the dishes!"  
>Suddently, her brothers were standing in the doorway behind them, and wanting to drag her away.<br>"Are you guys kidding me? I've done it for the last week, it is totally your turn!" Bryon turned around to look at her brothers as they outright deny all that Bethany claimed. He noticed how they would both glance at him, as they assured her it was her turn to help, which gave him the impression that their determination to make her work could possibly have to do with her spending time with him. Bryon had a feeling it was subconscious on their level, but doubted that questioning them would bring any positive results.

"Fine. Guys. I will help you. Go get started, I will be there in a second," she grumbled and contempt that they had won, her brothers headed back inside.  
>"I'm worried Bethany. You are far to kind, giving in to them like that."<br>"I know right? They don't realise how good I am to them!" She was turning to pull herself up, off the edge of the deck, and suddenly he realised what he really, really needed to say.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out. She stopped moving, one leg up already pulled up, and looked startled back at him.  
>"What for?"<br>"For how… how I left this afternoon. I'm sorry. I kinda had, um…" to literally run away? Probably best if he didn't share that with her. But as he looked back at Bethany, trying to think of a legitimate excuse, she smiled gently back at him, and swung her leg back down.  
>"It's totally cool Bryon," she whispered, looking back out at the darkness around the two of them, in the direction the sea was crashing in. "I'm sorry I intruded into your life. It wasn't really my place to ask."<br>"No. Bethany. You are my friend, its fine for you to ask. I just… didn't have an answer for you."  
>"Do you have one for me now?"<br>"Um… I don't think so. Not yet."  
>"Well, when you do, let me know okay? I just want to know you are alright."<p>

She was smiling back at him, like she always does. And even though smiling is so much easier when she is there, he just couldn't bring himself to return it. Inside him was hurting too much. He just so desperately wanted to be better, to feel better. So he turned away from her, and squeezed his eyes shut.  
>"Absolutely," he assured her.<p>

When she pulled herself up to go help her brothers, he climbed up and silently followed her. Inside the parents were making a racket as they carried on like the children they were inside. The boys were arguing over who had to dry the dishes. Bethany walked over and stole one of the towels from Noah, who turned around and made sure he got to wash the dishes, which in his mind was less work. Bryon stood there awkwardly watching the Hamiletons for a moment, wanting to help Bethany, but not wanting to seem like he thought she needed saving. He reached over and grabbed a plate, offering it to Beth, who was drying a bowl with her only hand.  
>"Swop? I don't know where any of the dishes actually belong," She pretended to look mortified.<br>"How could you not! That is just disgraceful!" Despite her words, she was laughing as she threw her towel at him.

The entire time they worked away at the dishes, Bryon couldn't ignore the way her brothers would watch him, judging him, checking he was behaving. And apparently, so did Bethany. Because the moment they had finish, Bethany order Bryon to grab a drink, and head back to the balcony. When nobody followed him outside, he started to worry, instantly fearing that they had worked out how damaged he was. So he hovered just outside the door, where he could hear Bethany as she cornered her two brothers.

"What are you guys doing?" She snapped at them both.  
>"Nothing!" Bryon could almost hear their hands raise up, in defence.<br>"Oh come on! You've got your subtly from our mother!" Her voiced had raised a little bit, but she pulled it back down once again. Bryon strained to hear what she was trying to say, his heart pounding so hard against his rib cage. "I can see how your treating Bryon, like he is some… some kind of criminal! How can you be so rude? He has done absolutely nothing wrong!"  
>"It's not that he has done anything wrong, Beth!" It was Noah who was trying to defend their actions. "It's just… We have heard things. We are worried about you, that's all."<br>"What are you guys on about?" She sighed at the two of them.  
>"He gets really spaced, all the time Beth." It was Tim who was sharing now, and Bryon couldn't help but feel the dread rise within him. "Apparently he is super stressed and whined up all the time. And clearly he doesn't look very well!"<br>"We just don't want you to get involved with someone so… trouble." Noah whispered to his sister.  
>"Guys. You are aware that you are both talking about Bryon, Broyn Blanchard right? The nicest guy on the planet? He is practically family!"<br>"We know! And he is great, but he has changed Beth. He is different."  
>"Well, regardless of whatever is going on with him, he is still a good guy. And I hope he hasn't seen how you have both been acting!"<br>"We are just worried about you, that's all little sis. We don't want you to get hurt."

"You are too late with that one. I was attacked by a shark, can't get more hurt than that."

Bryon pulled back from the door, and away from their voices. She said it so calmly; it was a simple fact. Whilst he blocks that day out of his memory, spending every waking moment pretending like it never ever happened. How could they be that different?

By a pure miracle, he managed to get himself far enough from the door to not look suspicious, by the time they joined him. Bethany's words had done the trick: the boys were back to their normal selves, seemingly not worried about Bryon's presence. So the only person who was acting weird, by the end of the evening, was Bryon himself. But since that was normal for him, at the current point of time, he considered the entire evening quite a success!

The younger ones remained outside on the balcony, chilling out until very late in the evening, when their parents came searching for them. Noah and Tim said their goodnights then, and disappeared in their own directions, but Bethany followed the Blanchards out to their car.  
>"It was cool seeing you again Bryon!"<br>"Likewise Beth. Thanks for having us over." She laughed lightly at him, the sound so absent of any pain or suffering. Again, he realised their difference.  
>"Anytime! You should come ova some time and go surfing with us!"<br>"Thanks. Sounds like fun." Bryon inwardly noted to himself that he ever intended of following through with that, it would probably be a good idea to get back into the water.

His parents were calling out, telling him they were going to leave without him. Bryon turned back around to Bethany Hamilton.  
>"Crazy how eager they are to disappear now. 5 minuets ago, they did not want to get out of your couch!" She laughed at him, before wrapping her arm around his waste and giving him a brief hug. He probably should have seen it coming. But he didn't. So instead, he stood awkwardly trying to work out how he could hug her back, without hitting her in the head. His parents called again, which encouraged Beth to pull back, and he didn't really have a chance to say anything more to her as he thanked her parents for dinner, and climbed into the car.<p>

As his parents drove home, chatting happily about their great evening, and how lovely it was to see the Hameltons again, Bryon let his mind wonder. If he ignored the last 2 minuets of the visit, the rest of the evening went pretty well.

His thoughts turned to how different they both were. Maybe that was why the two of them had different responses to that day. Maybe it is because he hasn't been able to accept what happened, that he doesn't know how to deal with it, and his just pushed the memory, and all its afteraffects away. And because of that, he isn't able to handle it. Where as Bethany has accepted what happened to her, and learnt to deal with it all. That's why she smiles, and laughs and acts like she is okay…

Because she generally is okay… 

And he isn't.


	5. Chapter 5

- Chapter Five –

From that point on, something within Bryon changed. The darkness that seemed to plague him, lifted. Not completely, but just enough for him to feel some sense of content within his life. Three days after dinner at the Hamiltons, and Bryon was actually smiling as he drove along the cove. The windows were all the way down in his truck, letting the breeze directly from the sea pull straight through his open car. It played with his jacket as it passed him by. The sounds of the crashing waves, caught in the wind and doubling in size, were so loud they completely drowned out his car radio, but Byron care.

His mind felt... at ease. He almost didn't recognised the feeling, and assumed it to be just a passing phase. But at each day that he reached, he left a little less worried about the past. Tiny thoughts, that use to sink him directly into darkness, now were drifting past without him noticing. And although he was still unable to force himself to use his bed, he was managing to get close to 5 hours a sleep each night. His nights were nonlonger designated time of isolation. If he was honest within himself, the last few nights had been the most peaceful he'd had since Bethany's attack. And Bryon knew it was all because of her.

But regardless of his uplifted views on the world, he has no pretense that he was suddenly all better. In his view, that damage that had occurred to his mind, was incurable. For the first time since the attack, such thoughts, if he tried really hard, could be blocked out.

Unfortunately, despite all that, Bethany herself was still impossible to stop thinking about. That morning, his parents had talked about how well she was surfing when they last saw her on the waves, and his hands started shaking so much, he had to put down his mug. At the mare mention of her name, he was lost. And now, as he drove along, he could see a girl, carrying a surfboard as she wobbled along the edge of the road. Her hair was the same dusty blonde as Bethany, and Byron actually felt his breathe catch a little at the thought of seeing her again.

He took a quick moment to tell himself to get a grip, and stop freaking out about her so badly. It's sad that he gets so worked up, at a lookalike, somewhere in the distance. What is he meant to expect will happen to him when he actually sees her? He needs to get some perspective: afterall, Bethany had never been his to worry about.

As he continued to make his way closer, he slowed down a little, trying to tell if it was actually Beth. The surfer turned her head at the sound of his rather old truck approaching, and waved at him. That smile, even at a distance, was unmissable. This look-alike was actually Bethany. A fact that did not help with the heart poundingness.

His miner freakout when he thought it was her, was nothing to him now, actually knowing it was her. His hand was shaking as he cranked it into first, and eventually pulled up right next to her. Through his open window, she was smiling at him, her wet hair whipping into her face with the sea breeze, but she appeared to not notice at all. Her smile made him calm down a little, and he tried to remember how to articulate words again.

"Um, Hey." Okay, Seriously Bryon! He snapped at himself. Can't you be atleast semi cool, for one second?!

"Hey Bryon! How are you?" She simply beamed back at him. He knew he should be annoyed, she always sounds so cheerful and carefree, when he self analyzes every single thing he says. But he really couldn't bring himself to be annoyed at her. He was far to busy trying not to show the heart attack he was apparently mid way through, He tried to focus his complete attention on answering her questions honestly, and not smiling just because she was.

"I am pretty good actually. Just heading off to a friends place." He looked pointingly at her board "Why are you walking? Don't you have a lift?"

"Nah. Folks are all at work, and my brothers are out for the day."

"So, wait, you are walking home? All the way?"

"Well... Yeah? I have been practicing flying recently, which I am pretty excited about. Unfortunately, I still have a few of the quirks to iron out, so today I am just going to walk it."

Bethany tucked her board back closer to her body with her hand, and made to look like she was going to start walking again.

"Why don't I give you a lift?" He yelled out to her.

"Oh no! I don't want to make you go out of your way."

"Beth, it is not a problem. I'd be happy to."

"No, No! But where are you heading? Maybe I walk from where you stop. Is it closer?"

"Unfortunatly, it is not. I'm actually off to Peter Eve's place, not even in the right direction. But he's totally chilled, so I will just drop you off first."

"NO! I will not be an inconvenience Bryon! But, hey, you go surfing with Peter right? I've obviously already got my board. I can just hang with you guys. Maybe you might find some better waves than I have today?"

"Um, well we were..." But she had already turned away and walked out of his sight. He could hear slight scraping as she pushed her board into the back of his truck. If it was anyone else, they would have sounded slightly pushy and demanding. But with Beth, it sounded completely innocent. Surfing was ingrained into every cell, every fiber that makes her who she was. If she could discover a way to be in the water for every second of a day, she would take it without a thought.

Unfortunately, Bryon Blanchard wasn't going to be going surfing. He was just pretending like he was, and has been doing exactly that for months. In fact, Bryon was more than a little proud of creating such a successful scenario that hid the fact that he was no longer surfing, from absolutely everybody in his life. As Beth climbed up onto his passenger seat, Bryon knew that there was no way he would be able to hide the truth from her today.

He thought about pushing her out of his car, and speeding away. And although it was undoubtably the best solution to keep his secret, he just couldn't quite work out how to force himself to do that to her. So he had little choice but to accept her company. Bryon shakily smiled at her, indicated (a pointless act as their were no cars in sight, but he was on his best behavior for Beth), and pull his car back onto the road once more.

In the silence, which it would have been if you ignored the sounds of his old tuck, his mind exploded. He realised that, in all possible scenarios, there is limited chance of Beth not working out his secret. And when she does, it won't end up well. Even if it doesn't fix everything, if he could somehow lessen the intensity of the blow before she works it out for herself, that would probably be a good thing.

"Don't get your hopes up at going for a surf, Beth." He mutter to her, "I am not even sure if we are going today. Figured I would drive over and find out."

"Wouldn't you just call him?"

"Um, well yeah, I could have. But I... felt like going for the drive." With his response as smooth as that, Bryon literally had to restrain from rolling his eyes, at himself. "Hang on, Beth. Don't you go judging me. I'm driving you around!"

"No judgment from this side of the car!" she declared with a smile that reached all the way into her eyes. Now that Bryon was with her, he tried to be as completely focused on the winding road, as they sped along the edge of the sea in his rattling truck. However she kept making him smile, and it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Anyways, I already know you are crazy," she said with a laugh. Her final word rattled around in his brain. Crazy. Maybe she knew how damaged, how messed up he was? With everything that he had be trying to sort through (and failing quiet spectacularly), crazy had just not appeared in his mind as a diagnosis. Pathetic: without a doubt. Stupid: everyday. Crazy? Would explain quite a lot of his problems, maybe even why he can't seem to recover from an event that didn't actually have anything to do with him. She must have seen the look of seriousness dribble onto his face, because she reached over and punched him in his arm.

"It's okay Bryon. I'm even crazier than you!" He appreciated her efforts, and smiled back.

"How come you say that?"

"Well, I was trying to walk all the way home. Would have taken me hours."

"Have you walked that after before?" He caught a glimpse of a smile, before she turned her head away from him.

"Sometimes." He decoded that as "Often" but thought it wise not to voice that aloud.

He glanced back over at her, as she watched the waves crash beside them. Then again, maybe she had no idea how crazy he really was. And as much as he wished he could tell her, how could he find the words? But if he could, by some miracle, tell her everything, could that help him not feel so isolated all the time? He had his doubts. More than likely he was already far too gone for that to ever be fixed.

Peter Eve was a bit of a drive from either of their places, so despite living on a smallish island, it still took them a good half an hour before they reached his place. The rest of the drive was spent swapping channels on the radio until they could agree on something to listen to. As they pulled up the Eve's drive, Bethany finally worked out why it had been so difficult to agree on some music.

"Bryon, thats not true! I know you love this song! You were listening to it on repeat one night I was chilling with your sister! Have you... Have you been arguing with me this whole trip, just to be difficult?"

"Maybe?"

She went to hit him, but he had already cranked his truck into park, and scrambled out the door, away from danger. He laughed at her as she cursed from inside his truck, before pulling herself out too. His heart felt so light, and he was so grateful to be able to stay sane enough to joke around with her, to be able to leave everything behind occasionally, and just have fun.

"Why am I even friends with you, Byron Blanchard." Her tone wasn't serious, so he tried to keep the playful tone in his voice as he replied.

"I have no idea!" and honestly, he didn't.

She looked back at him, and he could see that she saw the seriousness behind his words. And for a second, he thought she might even comment on it. But then the moment passed.

"So... Where is Peter? Should I grab my board?"

"I wouldn't bother quite yet, Beth. We'll come back for it." He started to wander down the path around the edge of the Eve's home. "Follow me. Peter is normally set up down the back."

"Sound kinda scary. Should I be worried Bryon? Are you... are you going to kill me?"

"If you keep abusing your driver, your odds do increase dramatically!"

"It's called defending myself! He was abusing me!" She was laughing at him as she followed him down the pathway. "Okay, seriously, where are you taking me?

"He took over his parents shed, last summer. Has decked it all out, so it is pretty sweet. You'll love it!"

The pathway lead through some bushes, all the way to the shed thats set up under the house. The roller door had already been pulled right up, allowing the sea breeze to roll straight inside. Peter was set up in the corner, dark hair shaken all over his face, his head deep into a book.

"Yo, Peter. How's it going?" Peter attempted to wave a greeting, without lifting his eyes from his book. "Um... I brought Bethany along?" That caught his friend's attention. Peter looked up instantly, to see her standing next to Bryon.

"Hey Bethany. Come on in, make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks! Nice place you've got down here!" she wandered into the space a bit, looking around. Bryon watched her quietly from his position still at the door. "You've got everything, a couch, tv, is that... a fridge?"

"Yeah. I'm slowly stealing my parents stuff from upstairs."

Despite obviously confused as to why he had brought someone with him, Peter fortunately didn't say anything. In a few moments, Peter had already turned his attention straight back to his books, ignoring his new guests. Beth looked a little confused, but being the easy going natured lady that she was, had no problem throwing herself into the couch and making herself comfortable as he had invited her to do.

Bryon, despite this shed being his second home, his own private retreat, stood awkwardly at the entrance. It wasn't until Beth patted the seat next to her, did he finally step into the shed, and took his place beside her. Peter's parents had only let them take the couch, because it was so old. Unfortunately, that meant the cushions had all died many years ago, and was sunk into the middle. The two of them kept bumping shoulders, forced together by the sunken couch. Bryon, who was acutely aware of everything he did within the presence of Beth, struggled with the entire situation. Bethany, however, thought it was quite funny.

"So, what are you working on Peter?" His friend didn't take any notice of Bethany, or her question, still reading away in his corner.

"He not trying to be rude. He just can't hear you. Actually, he can't hear anything when he's studying."

"Studying? I had no idea he was taking a course."

"Yeah, he is hoping to become physio. Been studying for a while now."

"I hadn't even heard. Is he taking a course online or something?"

"Sure is. Its a pretty intensive one too. I am not jealous of the hours he dedicates to it."

She watched him work away, occasionally stopping his reading to frantically write down some notes before he forgets them, or looses his place. Bryon pretend to watch the waves crashing, but really he was just absorbed by the way Bethany focused all her attention on Peter, watching him as he worked. Her focus, her curiosity to understand others and why they do what they do, pulled at Bryon, for he often looks at her with the same eyes. Despite watching her out of the corner of his eye, he was unable to stop looking, and doubted his subtlety.

"Bryon,"

Her voice, was removed of its usual lightheartedness. And his gut sunk through the chair the two of them were sharing. He knew what this was about. For a moment, he almost jumped out of his seat to declare that they needed to surf, to save the shame of telling her the truth. For shame is the only way to describe how he feels, when abandoning the surf due to fears of the past. But the moment, and his need for rash action, passed.

"Yeah?" Bryon's reply was even quieter than her question.

"You and Peter... You don't go surfing together, do you?"

He turned his face to her. One of the rare occasions that Byon actually was able to look her in Bethany's eyes. He was so sure he would see sadness engulfing them. But what looked back was pure confusion. Bethany flickered her attention towards some surf boards hidden away in the very back. When she saw him looking at them, she spoke again.

"They don't even looked waxed, Bryon."

"Oh those?" Both Bryon and Bethany looked up at Peter, who had, rather unfortunately, decided that now was a really good time to pop back into reality. Bryon quickly glared at Peter, warning him with his eyes to be careful of what he said. "Yeah, we never really surf any more!"

Apparently, Peter did not hear Bryon's frantic telepathic messages. Instead, his studious friend spun a few times around on his chair, arched his back, and then sunk his head back into his book.

"What are you talking about Peter?!" But he had already disappeared. When Peter didn't reply, Bethany turned back to Bryon.

He felt nauseous, as she stared intensely at him, demanding through her eyes, and not her words, to know what was going on. He attempted to shrug it off, as though it really wasn't a big deal. But to Bethany Hamilton, whose life was in the ocean waves, pretending as though it did not matter was never going to work.

"You told me that you go surfing all the time with Peter! What does he mean, you don't any more."

Bryon didn't know what to say to her; to Bethany! She was looking back at him, pleading to understand. And he had nothing to say. So he did the most logical thing he could do... He pulled himself out the the old couch, and scrambled out of the shed.


	6. Chapter 6

- Chapter Six –

"Bryan,"

He could hear it was Bethany's voice calling his name, the sound of it following him as he scrambled around the edge of the shed and down the path. He could feel the grass transform into sand under his feet, pushing through each of his toes as he throw himself down the path he and Peter use to take when they were so much younger, and sneaking off to swim in the sea. The sand squelched the faster he ran, as Bryon put as much space as he could between himself and the questions that were asked on that old sunken couch.

But unfortunately the questioner followed him. And with her, the fear burning within him - of how damaged he was, how afraid he was, how weak he was - pounded at his very heart.

Each time she called his name, two sides of himself felt as those they were ripping further and further apart. On the one side, he wanted to help her however he can, and whenever she asked. But on the other side, he wasn't ready to tell her. He didn't know the words to explain how he was feeling, or what was going on. Bryon didn't know how to he could possibly answer anything that she would undoubtedly ask him.

So as the sand banks opened up, and he reached the very edge of the beach, he kept on running. Straight down the sand dunes, slipping a little when his feet lost traction in the loose layers of sand.

And Bethany was so very close behind him.

"I'M SORRY," she screams out at him, the words almost lost amongst the sounds of waves crashing before him. Bryon stumbled to a stop, and turned to look at her. Still halfway up the beach, she was sliding down the sand, trying to desperately reach him. He watched her stumble, normally as equally graceful on sand as she is in water, but today she was far to distracted.  
>"No I'm sorry," Bryon called up at her. "I just-"<br>She looked so panicked, confused about what was going on, and why he was running away from her and her questions.  
>"NO, No. I am sorry!" She yelled back, as she kept charging at him. He feared that she was going to collide with him. And he was right, for as soon as she reached his side, she slammed her body into him, wrapping her arm around his waist and not letting him leave.<p>

Unlike Bryon, who runs for hours nearly every day, Bethany did not. Her breath was raspy and she took several gulps of the salty air before she could speak again.  
>"I'm sorry. I just… don't understand, and I really want to. I want to be able to help you. I didn't mean to intrude, or ask something I shouldn't have."<br>"I know you didn't mean to but-"  
>"But I did. I know. And I promise I won't ask anymore questions you're not ready to answer yet, okay? Just. Please don't run away."<p>

Bethany whispered those last few words into his chest, just near his pumping heart. He had no response for her. No words to offer an explanation or even to apologies for his behaviour. But she seemed to not need any. She just held onto him tightly with one arm. One of his own arms were pinned under her grasp, but the other was free. He reached up, his hand shaking a little, before gently patting the back of her head.

3 days prior, they didn't even speak. He couldn't even fathom seeing her in person, terrified of the memories that constantly flooded his mind. And now? They were wrapped around each other. Well, almost. Bryon was very aware that he was patting her head almost like a dog. Such thoughts as this didn't exactly help his heart, which was struggling to remember those days when it wasn't beating out of control. With a slight tug, that invited her arm to drop away from him, Bryon stepped out of Bethany's grasp. He tried to smile the best he could, and sunk down quietly into the sand. She followed him and sat down herself, then shuffled through the sand a little bit to be both sitting next to him, and to be able to watch the sea crash before them. Together, they sat in silence, watching the tied as it nearly reached its lowest point.

In the silence, with nature at its rawest stretched all around them and Bethany sitting happily beside him, Bryon started to feel at piece again. The gap, that was ever present between himself and everyone else, in his mind was disappearing. If he could be accepted for who he was, and not questioned or ignored, by Bethany Hamilton, then maybe the same could occur with everyone else.

Maybe one day he won't have to tell himself that everything will be okay, because it actually will be.

Bryon looked over at Bethany, who was watching each and every wave curl up only to crash back down. Her eyes were so wide, absorbing everything as though it was the first time she has seen the ocean. Her lips fought to stop a smile from taking over all her features.  
>"Let's go," she whispered to him.<br>"Where?"  
>Bethany jumped up, offering her hand to pull him out of the sand as well. When they were both standing once more, she smiled and answered his question.<br>"For a swim!"

And off she went, pulling off her shirt to reveal her swim suit underneath, still on from her surf earlier today. After all, swim suits are commonly accepted as suitable attire to go to a wedding in, where they both lived.

He watched her as she wandered towards the water, with so many less worries than usual. Those feelings that everything would be okay, transformed into a very unusual sense of security. And so his shirt joined hers on the sand, and he followed her to the waters, a little self-consciously for his back hadn't seen direct daylight in quite a long time.

She was waiting for him on the edge, her toes just dipping into the very edges of the occasional larger wave as it rushed up the shore. He stood next to her, looking at her smile rather than the ocean they stood before. Bethany laughed, the sound full of blissful joy, and stepped into the water. The tied was so low, and in this particular stretch along the sand, dropped quiet suddenly. Further out, Bryon remembered there to be some incredible sand dunes, causing some great waves on a good day. He took one step towards her, the water instantly lapping at his ankles. She was only a few steps in front of him, yet was already well past her knees.

The coolness of the water pushed against his feet, and he looked at her, the water completely surrounding her in every direction. And Bryon froze.

The smile on Bethany's lips looked eerie. The warmth in her cheeks looked as though it was a fake tan from a bottle. To Bryon, everything felt wrong. With a shattering breath, he looked at her arm and was horrified to see that it was completely missing. In the water splashing up at her, he could see the bloody spreading, steaming out from where her arm use to be. Even though Bethany was smiling, he could hear the sounds of her crying out in agonizing pain, filling the wind running off the sea

Bryon heart rose into his throat, as he desperately tried to work out how to help. His joints were locked into place, refusing to let him escape, to let him save Bethany. But he needed to.

And suddenly he was free, and leapt forward, plunging through the crashing waves to be by her side. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up and out of the water, away from the blood, the danger, the pain. Stumbling his way out of the sea, he couldn't hear her exclamations of surprise through her cries of agony.

Only when he had her halfway up the beach, did he slow down and place her as gently as he could on the sand, without causing her any more suffering. Twisting around her, he tried to see how much blood she has lost, how bad the damage to her arm was.

But there was nothing. No blood. No ripped clothing. No raw wound. Bryon blinked, and all that he saw was a very confused Bethany, staring straight back up at him with wide eyes and a mouth slightly ajar. And she had one arm missing as it had been for months.  
>"Bryon?"<br>She was just staring at him, as he stood there before her, trying to tell himself that she was okay, and that her screams, although fading slightly by now, were just in his head.  
>"I… Um. Didn't feel like swimming."<p>

Bryon saw her mouth open a little more, and knew she was preparing herself to point out exactly how much she knew he was lying.

And in that second, he remember how it was only moments ago that he thought everything was going to be okay. How it is so often that he tells himself it will all be all right, and then so soon after, everything is ruined once more. And he is even worst than he was at the very beginning.

As he stood before her, dripping and trying not to give into an oncoming heart attack, he saw Bethany's mind click over. And she realized that the very reason that had pushed him out of his friends place, and had him lifting her out of the ocean, was possibly the same thing.

And that was the very thing she had promised not to question him about it.

Bethany Hamilton, fully of constant wonder and curiously, looked as though not asking him was destroying her. It was definitely fighting against her natural instinct, that's for sure.

And poor Bryon Blanchard. He stood there, ears still ringing with the whispers of her screams, with no valid excuse for his actions at all.

_Like woah. Woooah. How long has it been since I last uploaded? (I am literally looking that up right now….) Almost half a year ago! I have re-written this chapter so many times. Each less happy with than the last. Until my computer wiped all my work, and I had to start from scratch once more. And you know what, I liked what I created. I hope you liked the update too!_

_A super special thanks to every single person who has read, or liked, or commented (or any combination of this.) When I see that others are curious on where Bethany and Bryon are going, I get so inspired to continue. And would never have had the patience to continue without your encouraging words. So thank you! _


	7. Chapter 7

- Chapter 7 -

The ocean breeze, cooling as the sun descended closer to the horizon, slammed harshly into his face. Refusing to turn back, Bryon kept running, even when the spitting of an approaching storm became heavier, dampening his clothes and making the dirt on the side of the road starting to transform into mud. As he pounded forward, his mind snapped back to what exactly he was running from.

He didn't have anything to say to Bethany, after he carried her out of the water and away from, what he thought was, harm. He had sat down next to her on the sand, trying to form some kind of explanation, a liable justification for his actions. But nothing came to him. When Bethany didn't say anything, there was nothing to fill the now earily quiet beach.

When he pulled himself out of the sand, and suggested quietly that it was time to get home, she silently stood up with him. Bethany trailed a few steps behind, all the way up the path to Peters hideaway, before she disappeared to say goodbye to Peter. Bryon had continued up to his car, unable to stop his feet from taking him further away from the waters edge, and the pain that occurs within it's slippery grasp. He did however, manage to remain stationary in the car, fighting the urge to drive away, until Bethany joined him once again, her board in tow.

"I thought you might have left without me," Bethany whispered as she got into his truck, as though to afraid to say such a thought too loudly.  
>"Never," he whispered back, cranking his car into motion again.<p>

The look on her face on the drive home, so stunned into silence and wary of him, was what kept him running now, hours after he had dropped her off at her home, after driving to her place a little too fast. He tried not to think of their parting, the thoughts caused stabbing in his chest that had nothing to do with the stitch of running. But his mind had no control when it came to Bethany Hamilton, and once thought of, it was impossible to stop. He had slid to a holt in front of her doorstep, as close to the stairs as physically possible, and she had silently climbed out of the car. As he could hear Bethany pull her board out of the back of his truck, he dropped his head back against his headrest and squeezed his eyes shut, promising himself that he would go straight home, pack this things, leave, and never ever return. As though hearing his thoughts, Bethany stuck her head through the passenger window

"Do you wanna come in?" Her question appeared genuine, like she could sense where his thoughts where going, and that he shouldn't be alone. But Bryon could not say yes.  
>"I'd better not. My folks will be expecting me home sometime soon."<br>"I'll see you soon then?"  
>"Definitely."<p>

He could see in her eyes that she knew this was going to be the last of him. He was done, with everything. It was so very much time for him to leave. As he skidded out of the drive, he glimpsed a final look at Bethany as she dragged her board around to the shed at the back of her place, and pretended like leaving her behind wasn't the hardest thing he was ever going to do.

Bryon was so focused on steadying his breath, as he continued to run away, and abandoning all the suspicious looks, the sleepless nights, and pain and isolation, that he didn't even register as the day turned to night. And with the lack of sunlight leading his path, he was unaware of the winding low fence running along the very edge of the road. With an increasingly wet road, the spitting still not holting, as though attempting to stop Bryon from leaving, it wasn't long until he slips. It was then that Bryon became very aware of the fence, as he collided with it. The warmth of blood dripping down his leg coupling with the pain shooting down to the base of his foot, Bryon knew it was bad. He took a moment to steady his breath, but the need to keep moving was overwhelming, so it wasn't long before he attempted to stand once again. The moment he put his whole weight on his leg, it crumbled beneath him and he sunk to the road.

Unable to move, Bryon lay where had dropped, the desire to leave home evaporating with the increasing pain. The sun had worked hard during the day, and the ruminants of it's heat was still present on the road beneath him, even with the continued rain. The first suggestion of an approaching car was by the rumbling of the road, even before its lights could be seen above the hill. Bryon's first thought was to ask for a lift, and readied himself to wave them down from his place on the road. But as they almost reach him, his mind jumped to the possibility of it being his parents behind the wheel, and panicked. He would be better off left on the side of the road and bleeding out, than them discovering him like this.

As Bryon attempted to roll out of the car's path, a cry of agony escaped his lips. He managed to drag himself into the sandy mud, the limbo between the fence and the road. It is there that he lay, hoping that car will drive straight past him. And it did. Bryon let out a breath of relief, a moment too soon, for the car slammed on its brakes and skidded to hasty stop 20 meters past him. He propped his head up and looked at the number plate, lit up behind a familiar second hand truck. He knew its owner, and it was so much worse than his parents. Bethany's brother Noah climbed out of the truck, and slanted towards him, his head bent down to stop the rain from falling in his eyes.

"Bryon. What the heck are you doing lying on the ground in the rain?"  
>"I'm resting?" Bryon was quick to respond, but his voice didn't hold the determination he was hoping to convoy. Silently, he begged for Noah to just leave him be.<br>"You are so werid," Noah muttered, as he continued walking closer. Squinting through the rain, it took him a few steps after seeing Bryon's leg to understand what he was seeing. When he did, Noah ran the distance between them, crashing to the mud beside him to take a closer look.

"Oh my god, DUDE! Look at your leg! What did you do!"  
>"The fence – ARGH Careful! That hurts! The fence jumped into me."<br>"And tried to kill you by the looks of it! I have to take you to the hospital!"  
>"NO! You can't! They will tell my folks!"<br>"I have to take you somewhere! I can't just leave you here in the rain dude!"

Bryon didn't know who to turn to. He lived on a tiny island – there really wasn't a long list of people who could see him so damaged and not rat him out to his parents.

"What if I take you to Bethany? She's got insanely good to patching up Tim and I so our parents don't find out. She even popped back Tim's shoulder! She can help you. And you know she wouldn't tell your folks."

That was literally the worse idea Bryon could ever imagine. Get help from the one he was attempting to run away from.

"No no. Just take me home. I'll be okay, just need to rest a bit."  
>"Are you kidding me? Dude you need help."<br>"No I don't. Just – home. Take me home."

Reluctantly, Noah agreed. He helped Bryon off the ground, and once it became apparent that zero weight could be put on the injured leg, helped carry him to the passenger seat. When Noah climbed into his own seat, and started his car up again, he did a multiple point turn in order to head back towards Bryon's home.

The drive back to his home was silent, with Noah assuming that Bryon was in too much pain to want to make conversation. Whilst this was true, Bryon was more consumed with the increasing dread that was threatening to overtake his mind. He realised that with each meeting with Bethany, his need to escape grew, and yet he could never leave. There was never an escape.

"Do you need help in?" Noah asked when they finally arrived. It was well and truly dark by now, and the lights on inside implied that his parents were still around.  
>"I'm just going to be honest with my mum. She will find out anyways right. And might be best not to help me in – the sight could give her a heart attack. I'll be fine. But thanks for picking me up. I appreciate it."<br>"Hey no problem. If you need saving another time, just call first okay? Don't wait around on the ground where you can get swashed."

Noah was laughing at his own joke as he pulled away, leaving Bryon on his drive to make his way into the house. He slowly shuffled forward, which each jab of his leg shooting pains down to the tips of his toes, to the very edge of his house. Instead of heading through the front door, and undoubtedly straight into his parents, he went the opposite direction, using the outer wall to ease his movement. He continued until reaching his bedroom window, which was open wide to let the air in, the beach breeze so comforting to him on bad nights. It was simple enough to pull himself through and onto the floor inside. He had done it so many times before, when he used to go on night surfs or late parties, and tonight was barely different.

Once inside his room, he wobbled a little in one spot, before stumbling to his bathroom. He knew it was bad, but nothing prepared him for when he turned on the light. The fence had punctured a hole straight into his calf, and had been seeping blood ever since, when now covered his leg and pooled in his shoe. It was only now that Bryon realised the mess he must have left in Noah's car. Someone might assume there had finally been a death in that death bucked of a truck. Glancing around him he saw a dirty shirt on the floor, which had probably been there for days. It was a little bit of a stretch to reach, but once he did he mimicked what he had seen in the movies, and wrapped it around his leg as tight as it could be. It was a bit of an empty gesture - the blood was everywhere. But it seemed to help the pain, slightly.

Bryon could hear his father's declaration that the bills do not, and will never make any sense. Apparently they had been working on them for the entire evening, and the chance of them having noticed his absence was slim. The tv turning on demonstrated that there evening just got a little less stressed.

He sat on the tiles of his bathroom, listening to the echoes from his parents watching tv, and drifting in and out of focus with the pain. He didn't try and think of a plan, or a solution, or how to even hide it from his parents. Bryon just sat. And breathed slowly. His only priority was to let the pain fill him, to consume his thoughts. To think of nothing else.

For just a moment, he was at peace.

And then another voice could be heard. Bryon pretended as thought it was just the tv, but that voice was impossible not to recognise. Of course she would be here. Of course it would be Bethany. Bryon's peace evaporated as he cursed his luck. He could hear her voice rise as she spoke to his parents, sounding slightly panicked. Eventually it reached a level that he could decipher.

" - Horrible horrible movie! I am such an idiot! I knew my folks were out tonight, yet I still did it! So my brother dropped me off here. I'm sorry to throw this on you, but my place was just freaking me out!"

His mother was quieter in tone, too much so that Bryon could not catch what her response was. But he had no doubt that she was declaring Bethany to be her second daughter, and that she must stay with them tonight. She seemed to calm down with whatever was being said, because Bethany's voice became not so easily to interpret.

Bryon rested his head back on the tiles, hoping the coolness of them would be transferred into his increasingly heating body. As he sat there, there was a gentle knock on his door.

Despite saying nothing, for there could only be one person who that belonged to, the door still opened. He had nowhere to escape as Bethany Hamilton stepped into his room.

_You know when you have so much to say, but you can't find the words. Its been a year? But I finally found the words. Let me know what you think – Bluie  
>P.s. Literally a year. 365 days ago was my last one. hahahaha. <em>


End file.
